


untitled

by whichstiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Prince Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 09:04:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13701273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whichstiel/pseuds/whichstiel
Summary: Inheriting the throne was once the only thing Prince Castiel dreamed about. Today he gives up everything to be with the man of his dreams.A Dean / Cas Hey Sweetheart story.





	untitled

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to [SconesandTextingandMurder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sconesandtextingandmurder/pseuds/sconesandtextingandmurder) for her expert and delightfully entertaining beta work. <3

In a perfect world, Castiel would have ripped a crown from his head and sent it skittering to his father’s feet. Then he would have wheeled around on his heel and stormed out the door towards freedom. In reality, abdicating the throne had proven to be a long, cumbersome process filled with lawyers, pundits, and endless rounds of press - and that was on top of his mother’s white hot rage at his choice to, as she put it, abandon his people.

Castiel sighed and rubbed at his chin with an ink-stained hand as he went over the final paperwork one last time. The ceremonial relinquishment of his title was in a few hours. There, he would both accept the withdrawal of his title and hand his birthright to his younger sister Anna. Reading over the carefully worded abdication papers soothed the stampede of nerves that threatened to overwhelm him.

A ball of crumpled paper whiffed against the back of his head and bounced onto the table. Castiel frowned and reached for the ball, clenching it in his fist as he turned around to see his brother loping easily across the room. He was busy wrinkling another piece of paper into a tight, precise missile. “Damn it, Bal. All I’m asking for is an hour of peace.” 

Balthazar, his irrepressible younger brother, smirked at him. “You’ve gone over that about eighty thousand times since you announced your little bombshell, brother. Haven’t you memorized it by now?” He collapsed into a sleek leather chair opposite Castiel and propped his boots on the table. “Besides this is my last time to annoy you before you become an official commoner and,” he affected a sorrowful frown, “therefore off limits to one of high rank and honor such as myself.”

Castiel jabbed the cap of his pen into Balthazar’s boot sole and pushed gently until his brother moved his feet back to the floor. “Really?” he said with a pleased smile. “That’s an unexpected perk.” He tapped the papers in front of him. “These give Anna all my powers of rightful successor. It’s imperative that everything be correct or our family - our legacy - could encounter trouble one day.”

Balthazar rolled his eyes. “My dear brother. Anna’s looked at them. Our parents have. Our attorneys have. Everything’s in order.” He smirked at Castiel’s disgruntled frown, and then settled back in his chair and folded his hands across his midsection as though perfectly content to wait. 

After fixing a suspicious look on his brother, Castiel returned to his papers. When he had finished reading through them again and had found nothing to suggest or improve, Castiel capped his pen and placed it onto the table with a delicate _clack_. “Well?” he said finally. “I assume you didn’t come here solely to act like a child?” 

“Not entirely,” Balthazar arched an eyebrow and withdrew a silver flask engraved with their family crest, waving it in his direction. Castiel hesitated and then took it, unscrewing the cap to take a small sip. “Now I know you’re a mess,” Balthazar observed, “if you’re drinking beforehand.” He took a swig of his own before screwing the cap back on and stowing it in his suit jacket’s inner pocket. “Do you have doubts you wish to share? Is that why you’re here instead of rubbing elbows with our extended family out in the ballroom?”

“I have absolute confidence in Anna,” Castiel began. He wrinkled his brow, then looked towards the ceiling as though searching for a script scrawled across it. “She will make a fine queen.”

“Yes, she will. But you would have been an excellent ruler as well.”

Castiel met Balthazar’s eyes. “Bal. What are you trying to do? It’s too late to—”

Balthazar raised both hands defensively. “I’m not trying to do anything.”

“I’m fine.” Castiel winced at the sound of his voice reverberating too loudly in the study. He cleared his throat then said, “It’s simply that I planned to rule - have been prepared to rule - for my entire life. Retreating from that seems…” Castiel sighed. “Odd, to say the least. Irresponsible, I suppose.” He met Balthazar’s eyes. “A little like betrayal.”

“Castiel.”

“It’s not a decision I made lightly. It’s not. I know the press goes on about it. I know what they say.”

Balthazar made a face. “You’re actually watching that garbage? You know better.”

“I know. I know.” Castiel smoothed the papers on the desk and straightened the corners. When he finally looked up at Balthazar again, he simply said, “I love him. I don’t wish to live without him. Or hide him. And since our parents and our country will not accept my marriage to a commoner…” 

“You’ve made your choice,” Balthazar offered when Castiel trailed off into silence.

“I have,” Castiel said with a sharp nod. He picked up his pen and slipped it into his pocket and grabbed the sheaf of papers from the desk. “It’s almost time.”

“So it is,” Balthazar murmured. For once, he followed Castiel from the room in contemplative silence.

They walked through back corridors towards the press room, only encountering palace staff along the way. This reprieve gave Castiel time to aggressively chew a mint to hide the possible smell of alcohol on his breath from his parents, as well as time to school his expression into his customary calm. He found Anna waiting by their parents in the small sitting area that backed the press room. Her hands were folded demurely before her; she looked the very picture of composed royalty.

Castiel nodded at her, avoiding his parents’ gazes. He wished they could speak freely with each other now. He could tell she was nervous by the way her mouth pinched slightly as she spoke. Castiel approached and let himself be guided into position by a handler. Then, as though in a blur, he and Anna entered the press room together and stood around a tall, ornate table while Castiel signed away the kingship.

Afterward, Castiel delivered his prepared statement and then Anna delivered her first address as heir-apparent. Castiel’s ears rang as they retreated into the back room. He bowed deeply to his sister as she preceded him, marking his new status.

Once they were away from the watchful press, their mother grabbed hold of him by the crook of his elbow. Her fingers dug into his flesh through his suit jacket. “You’re done here,” his mother said, eyes like ice chips. “You may as well go.”

Castiel nodded once, anger swelling like a summer storm. His hand worked in and out of a fist at his side. And then Anna stepped between them. She locked eyes with Castiel, her mouth set in a somber line. Deliberately she embraced him, pulling him tightly into her arms. After a moment his fists uncurled and Castiel slowly raised his arms to return the embrace. “You will make an excellent ruler,” he whispered into her ear. “I'll always be here should you need me.”

“I know,” she said into his shoulder. “I've no doubt you'll be permitted back by our parents within a year. They love you, as do our people…even if that's hard to see right now.” She sighed and smoothed her hands across his tense shoulders and then drew back, raising her palms to cup his face. “You may not have a title anymore, but you’ll always be indispensable to this country and this family.”

“Anna…”

She patted his cheek. “Go. Be happy. We’ll talk more later.”

Castiel couldn't speak. He nodded once, stiffly, then pulled away and left the palace.

* * *

Castiel drove home in the evening gloom with the radio off and nothing but the road reverberating through the car. He pulled past paparazzi camped outside his home and his shoulders slumped once the gate closed between his car and the curious masses. Light leaked around the edges of the curtains in the distant house. He parked hurriedly, suddenly aching to see his fiancés smile. 

When Castiel let himself inside, Dean was already hurrying down the hallway. He wore loose, worn jeans and a faded Metallica t-shirt, gray with age. His smile lit up the room. “Hey,” he said and threw wide his arms. Castiel allowed himself to be pulled into Dean’s embrace, wrapping his own arms tightly around his waist. For several breaths he simply melted into Dean and let his mind go blank with the simple pleasure of Dean’s comforting touch. 

Castiel eased away first and Dean pulled back as soon as his grip slackened. He looked Castiel over like a careful inspection would reveal visible wounds. “You okay? Rough day.”

“I’m fine.” Castiel smiled fondly at Dean. He shrugged off his light coat and crossed to the closet. He slipped his coat onto a hanger and hung it next to a faded leather jacket and Dean’s ten year old peacoat. He could feel Dean watching him and he turned with a smile, extending his hand towards Dean. “Smells good in here.” He glanced sideways at Dean, already knowing the answer when he asked, “Did you make me my favorite?”

“Maple glazed apple,” Dean confirmed, wrapping his fingers tightly around Castiel’s hand and pulling him down the hall and to the kitchen. 

Castiel groaned when he saw the pie sitting golden and perfect on the countertop. He laid an exaggerated hand on his midsection. “I really shouldn’t. I’ve panic-consumed too much this week already.”

Dean winked at him, already picking up a knife to cut the first slice. “I’ll help you work it off, baby.” 

“In that case, how could I refuse?”

Dean cut two pieces of pie and placed them on a plate. Steam rose slowly from the baked fruit and filled Castiel’s senses with the decadent smell of sugar and cinnamon. He let Dean feed him his pie, alternating bites with his own. Every time Dean took a bite his tongue flicked out to lick the sugar from his lips. It was involuntary and endearing and somewhat erotic. Castiel’s stomach tightened at the sight but he eventually lifted his hand and blocked Dean’s fork. “This is delicious,” he said. “But I find I don’t have much of an appetite right now.”

“No pie?” Dean pretended shock but he immediately put the fork down on their shared plate and reached for Castiel, brushing his fingers along his forearm. “Couch? I’ve got a fire going.” Castiel nodded gratefully, rising to his feet with some difficulty. He felt like his hands and shoulders were made of lead, dragging him down. 

He let Dean pull him to the couch in front of their fireplace. A low banked fire cast the room in warm oranges and deep shadows. Dean settled onto the couch and pulled Castiel down, tucking him into his arm so his head fit under Dean’s ear. 

Dean turned to kiss his hair, nose brushing against his curls as he asked, “You want TV? Music? Something to help you sleep?”

Castiel sighed and burrowed further into Dean’s embrace. “I just need you,” he said.

“Well, you’ve got me, sweetheart.”

The tears that had threatened to fall for the past three hours finally overflowed. To Castiel’s horror, something like a sob wrenched from his throat. Immediately he gulped, trying to crush down this moment of weakness and bottle it tightly away. 

Dean held him as he swallowed against the burning in his chest and whispered, “It’s okay, babe. Let it go. You’ve been holding it together for weeks. Let it out. I’ve got you.” His arms tightened around Castiel. “I’ve got you.”

The fire had almost burned down to coals when Dean huffed a little laugh. Castiel had been laying against Dean, his eyes closed against the world. He opened them and asked, almost petulantly, “What's so funny?”

“I was remembering the day we met.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and growled like a cat. “I was an ass.”

“Oh yes.” Dean ran his fingers along Castiel’s arm in gentle, smooth strokes. “So was I. But I wasn’t thinking about that.”

“No?”

“Nope. I was thinking about…” Dean’s hand moved up to Castiel’s hair, combing loose tendrils back behind his ear. “Well, I barely remember that stuff. What I do remember is this gorgeous man walking into my barn like the goddamn sun. Something about you lights me up, you know? I’ll never get tired of it.”

“Dean,” Castiel groaned, feeling himself flushing red with equal parts delight and embarrassment. 

“Just so you know,” Dean said dropping a kiss along Castiel’s curls, “how much you mean to me.”

“I feel the same way.” Castiel sighed and burrowed down until his ear laid against Dean’s chest. He could hear Dean’s heart beat steadily beneath his cheek. He sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, Dean. I should be happy to be free of…everything.”

“Naw.” Dean’s reply carried a hint of a smile. “It’s okay to be broken up, man. We’ll work through it together, okay?”

Castiel nodded and the room fell silent once more, save for the crackling fire. When very little light came from the fading coals, Castiel finally pushed himself upright. He met Dean’s steady gaze, then his eyes dropped to his lips. Slowly, Dean’s mouth turned up into an inviting smile. Castiel took the invitation, leaning in to take a soft kiss. 

Dean’s hand came up to curl around his ear; his thumb brushed against his jaw. His kiss was soft and warm, familiar and sweet. It refreshed Castiel like spring rain. When he finally pulled away it was with a smile of his own. “Thank you,” he said, tracing along Dean’s lip with the tip of his finger. “I needed that.” Then he stood up in one graceful movement, loosening his tie with one hand. He held out the other to Dean. “Join me, sweetheart?”

Dean gripped his hand, flipping it and pressing one more kiss to his palm. His lips skated the length of Castiel's hand, past his knuckles and to the tip of his index finger. The tip of Dean’s tongue appeared and, with a quick wink he sucked a long wet kiss onto the tip of Castiel’s finger.

“Of course,” he said.

Castiel grinned back, his breath hitching as he reclaimed his hand so he could run his slick finger along Dean’s lip. Then he crooked his finger. “Shall we?” Dean scrambled from the couch with almost comical speed. 

Dean took him apart slowly that night, and Castiel let him drown the lingering fear and guilt. They fell asleep desperately folded into each other's arms in their quiet bedroom while the world waited outside with loaded cameras. 

* * *

Castiel woke the next morning to rose gold light filtering around the curtains, outlining the edges of the windows in soft pastels. Dean lay on his back, one arm flung over his head and the other resting against Castiel’s shoulder. He snored quietly, head tipping into the pit formed by their pillows. Castiel rolled over carefully and watched him, marveling at his luck in finding Dean.

He grinned as Dean’s eyes fluttered open. “Morning.”

A soft smile spread across Dean’s face, so much more beautiful than the seductive smirk he wore when they’d first met. “ _Good_ morning, even.”

“Good morning, then.”

“You look like you’ve been up for a while.” Dean frowned, his eyes still puffy from sleep and hair standing out in every direction. “What’s on your mind?”

Castiel slid one hand over the curve of Dean’s waist and brushed along his muscular back with his fingertips. “I was thinking,” he admitted, “about that day on the river.” He squinted in reminiscence. “That was our…”

“Fifth date,” Dean supplied automatically.

“Fifth date,” Castiel affirmed. “And we were talking about your family. Do you remember?” Dean nodded against the pillows. “First time I opened up about that in years. ‘Course I remember.”

“You said something I’ll never forget. That the family we choose can get us through the darkest times of our lives because—” 

“Family don’t end in blood.” 

“Exactly.” Castiel stroked along Dean’s back, carefully choosing his words. “Maybe this is my dark time. I’m scared,” he finally admitted, and felt a relief swell from saying it out loud. “I don’t know what my future will be like now, or how my family might need me, or hate me, or use me. Or love me,” he added, remembering Anna and Balthazar. “So anyway. I’m glad I chose you.”

“Me too, Cas.” Dean didn’t move from the pillow but simply looked into Castiel’s eyes and held him tight. Castiel breathed slowly and felt his heartbeat steady, calmed by their connection. Outside the world rushed by in swirling eddies of gossip and tangled drama. His future was a terrifying tangle of conflicting currents but he knew he could handle it with Dean by his side.

**Author's Note:**

> Was this story written so I can giggle about using this title? Yes. Yes, it was. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/whichstiel) and [Tumblr](http://whichstiel.tumblr.com/) @ whichstiel. You may also like the Supernatural recap and gif blog I co-write/curate, [Shirtless Sammy](https://shirtlesssammy.tumblr.com/).


End file.
